


¿Dónde está el deseo?

by brownest_goldfish_intheair



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Berlermo, Fluff, M/M, Smut, based on The Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownest_goldfish_intheair/pseuds/brownest_goldfish_intheair
Summary: “What are you doing here, Andrés?” He sighed quietly. His friend shrugged, his gaze still resting on the grey sky before them.“Coming back to you.”---What would have happened if Andrés hadn't been able to stay away from the love of his life?
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 31
Kudos: 206





	¿Dónde está el deseo?

_And you will be thinking about me. But I won’t be thinking about you._

That had been a lie. Not a deliberate one – in that moment, Andrés had actually believed every word he was saying. After all, he’d spent so many hours with Tatiana without giving a single thought to his best friend, waiting for him back in the monastery. He had never fully left his mind of course; he was his other half; his soulmate and therefore, always a presence in the back of his mind – like a comforting, warm shadow. _  
_But right now, sitting opposite his wife and watching her smile up at him in between taking bites of her food, Martín wasn’t a shadow at all; he was an all-encompassing sensation, a feeling pulling at his heart so painfully, it made everything around him fade into nothing but a low murmur of colours and sounds and he thought he might be going insane with how clearly he could still feel the other man’s lips on his, his hands caressing the back of his neck and his breathing speed up when he’d pushed him against the wall.

But it was impossible. It was impossible because any person he’d love now, he would leave in a couple of years. He could do that to Tatiana; he didn’t care for her more than for any other woman he’d lived with. And with his brother, he simply didn’t have a choice. But he couldn’t do it to Martín. Although he didn’t doubt that his friend could take it – that what he’d done now had been just as painful if not worse for him than watching him die would have been; but because he was selfish.  
He was used to not caring too much. It was easy to go when you didn’t feel sorry for leaving. But how could he ever go peacefully if it meant leaving Martín?  
He’d just never thought that it would hurt this much – be this difficult – to leave like that instead. But he hadn’t expected Martín to kiss him like that either, rendering him powerless against the desire to kiss him back; to let his hand wander down to his neck and over his cheeks, to press his body against him as if he would never have to let him go again.

“Are you alright, mi amor?” Tatiana asked, reaching for his hand across the table. He didn’t have to try hard to focus his eyes on her and give her his most charming smile; he was a master at controlling his face and body.  
Controlling his thoughts, however, was a completely different story:

They were still circling around his best friend when he pushed his wife into bed that night, numbing his fingers when he let them wander under her dress and over her breasts and reaching the peak of their intensity once her legs were wrapped around him and he was buried inside her while holding her wrists above her head with a firm grip, hitting him so hard right under his stomach that he came like never before, only remembering where he really was when he heard Tatiana moan under him.  
  
  
The intensity came back three months later, in a much less pleasing sensation, when Tatiana threw a glass at him and it splintered into a thousand pieces after hitting the wall next to his head.

“You bastard!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face. “Do you have feelings at all?”

There was nothing he could say; she was right, he’d been completely cold when he’d slid that man’s throat and he’d known full well she’d would despise him for it. But he hadn’t cared; not for a second.

“You knew what kind of man I was when you married me.” He said, stoic calm meeting pure rage. She looked at him in utter disbelief.

“You don’t even care, do you?” She sobbed. “That I think you’re a monster.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a small smile.

“I can’t change my nature, querida. Either you can live with me or you can’t.”

 _But_ he _could_ _have lived with me._ He thought when he sat down on the empty, cold bed after she’d left. _Wanted to, even; not despite knowing me, but_ because _he did._  
  
  
It took three days for him to cave in. Three days of dancing across an empty house to loud, dramatic music and downing bottles of expensive Italian wine during sleepless nights, before the longing became too much and carried him to the monastery, stumbling into Martin’s room right before dawn.

“Andrés? What are you _doing_ here?”

Pale blue eyes blinking at him through the half-dark, a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“I should have never left.” He was approached in a few quick steps.

“Are you drunk?” A smile formed on his lips. He wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying at all.

“ _Martín_. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you were.”

He was slammed against the wall before he knew it, his collar firmly held in his best friend’s hands.

“How dare you?” He’d never seen Martín look so angry – not when he was talking to _him_. “You should be saying that to your wife.”

Andrés tiredly shook his head. “She’s not… We’re not…”

Martín snorted bitterly as he loosened his grip.

“Oh, so you’re here for my _comfort_. To let yourself be worshipped a little, fix your ego and then leave again. I should have known; fuck you.” Andrés could barely breathe when he looked at Martín. He didn’t consciously decide to move his hand up to cup the other man’s cheek, but when he did, he felt like he might catch fire from the warmth spreading in his chest.

“Cariño.” He whispered “It’s not like that.”

“Really? So what is it like then, huh? Tell me.”

Never had words burned on his tongue as much as _I love you_ in that moment. But he didn’t have the right to say them; had lost it the moment he’d left Martín leaning against that wall with tears streaming down his face.

“Yeah, thought so.” Martín snorted as he fully let go of him and took a step back. “Get out of my room.”

He stared at his friend for another moment, watching his face soften, turn from anger to desperation. He knew he wouldn’t have the strength to tell him a second time, so he decided to leave him at least a bit of his pride, after having taken so much from him,and walked out of the room, trying not to listen as the man he loved started to cry behind the closed door.  
  
  
Andrés slept in his old room; the one he’d occupied back when they’d lived here together. Before Tatiana, before they’d told Sergio about their plan – when it was just them against the rest of the world.  
He woke up with a pounding headache and a disgusting aftertaste of guilt in his chest. That was it; that was exactly the reason he’d left: No one but Martín could make him feel like that. He was never victim to his emotions or his conscience, except when he was with this man.  
He sat in his bed for half an hour, wondering what Martín was doing – what he’d do if he knew he was still here. He probably did know, he considered, he could usually look through him quite well.  
Finally, he gathered his things and made his way down the hallway to the main entrance, where he could look out at the orchard being drenched in late September rain. He took a deep breath of the fresh air. He’d always wanted _all_ of life; all the love and joy he could possibly get. Just when had he become so afraid of that?

Martín found him sitting on the stairs, peacefully looking out at the Toscana. He stopped in the entrance and leaned against the cold stone of the doorframe for a moment, regarding the man’s delicate form, the way his coat elegantly framed his shoulders and revealed the back of his neck that he’s stared at so many times, he could have drawn it down to the last detail from memory.

“What are you doing here, Andrés?” He sighed quietly. His friend shrugged, his gaze still resting on the grey sky before them.  
“Coming back to you.”  
Martín shook his head as he sat down on the stairs next to him.  
“You’re such an arrogant asshole, do you know that? Assuming you could stroll in here, after three months, and I would take you back, just like that. As if nothing had happened.” Andrés closed his eyes with a small smile.  
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve not been thinking about me this whole time?” He turned to look at Martín with a slightly raised eyebrow. Martín swallowed hard as he felt anger and resentment rise up in his chest once again.

“Of course I have.” He said. “Of course I’ve been thinking about you. You never left my fucking mind. You ripped my heart out of my chest and still your face was all I saw every time I closed my eyes. And while I was sitting here, wishing you’d come back, wondering what I could have done to make you stay, you enjoyed your time with your wife, bathing yourself in my endless affection; feeding your arrogance on my pathetic love for you.” He blinked rapidly to chase away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Andrés slightly tilted his head to the side before carefully moving his hand up to Martín’s cheek.  
“I saw you too, every time I closed my eyes.” He whispered. “You ruined me, Martín. You opened my heart when you kissed me, and I could never close it again.”

Martín lost himself in the warm grey of his eyes, the feeling of his fingers against his cheek and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t move a muscle.  
“You’re so good at talking, Andrés.” He whispered hoarsely. His friend gave him a cheeky smile and let his hand wander down to his chin.  
“Oh, I’m good at other things, cariño.” Martín took a shallow breath.  
“You know exactly how much…” He closed his eyes to calm his breathing. “How much I want…” He heard Andrés chuckle lowly and he could have punched him in the face for how shamelessly he was trying to use his devotion against him – again. His chin was tilted up by Andrés’ hand so he was facing him directly when he opened his eyes and every fibre in his body was screaming at him to let this man kiss him.  
But he forced himself to straighten his body and stand up as quickly as he could, making his heart sting as if someone had poured acid over it. Andrés looked up at him, the small smile playing around his lips slowly fading as he tried to cover the hurt in his eyes.

“I’m not as weak as you think.” Martín said, trying his best to keep his voice steady and ignore how shaky his knees were when he turned around to walk back in through the door. He’d barely passed the doorstep when he felt Andrés’ hand grab his from behind. He turned around in surprise; this, somehow, was a completely different sensation from kissing. He fixed his eyes on Andrés’; they were glowing with so much adoration, Martín did not dare to even breathe as his hand was slowly moved up to Andrés’ lips, and he began to kiss his fingers so softly and tenderly, it made Martín doubt his legs wouldn’t give in any second.

Okay, fuck it, he _was_ weak. He was weak and he didn’t care. He freed his hand from Andrés’ to rest it on his cheek before he leaned in to softly brush his lips against his friend’s.  
Martín wanted to hold back; maintain the smallest bit of his dignity, but he didn’t get a chance because as soon as their lips touched, Andrés’ hands were all over him, and he was sucking on his mouth so hard it almost hurt.  
 _Oh_ shit. He thought. _Oh shit, h_ e _wants this just as much as me._

With the way Andrés was touching him, Martín felt like it wouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes until he would have been taking him right up against the wall, had it not been for the steps suddenly coming around the corner in the hallway.  
They pulled apart instantly, looking at each other as they tried to calm their breathing. If a monk saw them like this, they’d probably have to look for a new place to stay rather soon.  
The two monks coming down the hall passed them with a quick nod which they returned, avoiding each other’s gaze until they were out of sight. When their eyes met again, they both started to grin.

“Fuck, that was close.” Martín said amusedly. Andrés shook his head before tenderly running a hand through the Martín’s hair.  
“As much as I enjoy the rush of adrenaline.” He whispered lowly and moved his lips as close to Martín’s as he could without touching them. “I think we should take this somewhere else.” Martín suppressed a shiver as he nodded and took Andrés’ hand in his to lead him down the hall to his room.

As soon as the door fell shut behind them, Martín’s mouth was caught by Andrés’ again, making him lose all sense of space as he pushed off the other man’s coat and ran his hands down his arms. He tried to not to be too loud when Andrés started moving down to kiss his neck, using his teeth to leave marks on his skin, but he couldn’t help but moan in surprise when he grabbed him by the hips and lifted him into the air with ease.  
“I don’t _want_ you do be quiet, corazón.” He roared, blinking up at him hungrily as he ran his thumb over his lips. “Is that understood?” Martín had to gather all his composure in order to form a reply.  
“Yes.” He said breathlessly, trying to reclaim Andrés’ mouth immediately. Andrés gave him a cheeky grin while not moving an inch.  
“Don’t dare, you piece of shit.” Martín roared, digging his nails into the back of his friend’s neck. Andrés chuckled quietly before he finally let his lips meet Martín’s again. Martín sighed deeply, way louder than he needed to, content when he felt Andrés smile against his lips.  
He continued kissing him while carrying him over to the bed, making his heart beat so fast he thought he might pass out.

Martín kept his legs firmly wrapped around the other man’s waist when he lay him down, pushing his hips up against him.  
“Shit, Martín.” Andrés breathed and stopped to rest his hands next to him on the bed.  
Martín grinned in satisfaction; he’d never seen his friend like this. From what he knew, he was always the one in control – always the one who stripped others off their composure.  
“Yeah, I know.” He whispered. “I know.”  
Then he moved up, pushing Andrés back a little and instantly felt strong arms around his back as he was pulled onto his lap while readjusting his position.

“Tranquilo, we’ve got time.” Martín said. “Look at me.” Andrés looked up at him in exactly the same way he had right before he’d kissed him for the first time and he really did want to do this slow now, because, for all he cared, this moment could have lasted forever.  
He placed a fleeting kiss on the other’s lips before he let his hand wander down his neck to slowly start opening the buttons of his shirt, one by one, looking up at him at every additional bit of skin he revealed. Andrés closed his eyes while Martín ran his hands down his whole chest and stopped right above the rim of his trousers, moving in even closer to push the shirt off his shoulders while pushing his hips down. Andrés’ breath hitched quietly, and his hands instantly wandered under the other’s shirt, coming to rest in between his shoulder blades.

“There’s no bra you have to open, you know that, right?” Martín grinned, earning an eyeroll from the other man.  
“Shut up.” He roared, stripping him off the shirt in a quick, practiced motion before running his hands down his back and into his trousers to grab his ass. “Do you really think I don’t know what I’m doing, huh?”  
“Oh, for fucks sake.” Martín muttered, tightening his hold on Andrés’ shoulders before pulling him into another kiss.  
“Something you want?” Andrés asked lowly. “Just say it. What do you want me to do?” He slowly let his hands wander down further while smugly smiling up at Martín.  
“I want…” Martín paused to moan when Andrés fingers almost reached the point where he so desperately needed to be touched right now. “I want you to fuck me, Andrés. Fuck me better than you fucked all those girls.” Andrés softly kissed his chest with a low chuckle.  
“All those girls” He said as he moved his hands down to Martín’s legs to push him back onto the bed. “have _nothing_ on you, mi amor.”  
Martín struggled to catch his breath as Andrés stripped him off his trousers right before opening his own.

“The…” Martín started, weakly pointing to his night-stand.  
“Top left drawer?” Andres smiled. “I know, I borrowed it from you once, don’t you remember?”  
He really hadn’t remembered – he couldn’t remember anything in that moment. But it hit him all at once how then, the idea that they could ever be doing what they were doing right now had seemed nothing but an impossible dream and the realisation almost brought tears to his eyes.  
He watched as Andrés get up and let his trousers drop to the ground once his back was turned to Martín, giving him a perfect view on his ass. He’d done that absolutely on purpose, Martín was sure, especially with the way he bent down so elegantly to open the drawer – but then again, Andrés rarely ever made a movement that _wasn’t_ elegant.

He settled back in between his legs with the small bottle of lube, pushing them part just a bit more with his arms while running his fingers down Martín’s waist.  
“Do I need to use my fingers first?” He asked while opening the bottle. His voice was laced with sarcasm but it had a softness to it made Martín feel like he really was asking because he didn’t want to hurt him.  
“No.” He said immediately, making Andrés chuckle softly. “No, just make sure you…” He was interrupted by the feeling of the cold liquid between his legs that Andrés was distributing with his fingers while massaging it on his cock with the other hand.  
“Yeah.” Martín breathed, closing his eyes against the sensation. “That.”

He opened his eyes again when the feeling of Andrés’ fingers disappeared. He didn’t even have time to take a breath before he sank into him, just slowly enough for the pain to melt into pleasure. And as soon as he was as deep as he could go, he grabbed Martín by the hips and pulled him down into an angle that _oh god_.

“Don’t move.” Martín said, his voice not more than a faint whisper as he focused all of his energy on stopping his legs from shaking. Andrés chuckled and stopped in his movements, running his hand down Martin’s thigh.  
“And what if I did?” He asked. “Would you come for me? Just like that?” Martín took a shaky breath as he blinked up at him.  
“It’s not… It’s never like this.” Andrés smiled softly.  
“No.” He replied. “No, it’s not.”  
They stayed like that, with their eyes firmly interlocked and their breathing slowly evening out, and right then, Martín felt like they could have melted all the gold in the world, just by looking at it.

“Okay?” Andrés asked after a moment, softly pushing his hips forward. Martín braced himself before he nodded and Andrés leaned down to kiss him before slowly pulling back and letting himself sink in again, his hand still firmly resting on Martín’s thigh. Martín bit his lip as he moaned into the pressure, pushing his head back and desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything with his hands. Andrés took hold of one of them on the pillow, gripping it tightly while he kept thrusting into him and Martín lost himself completely in the way Andrés felt inside him; the way he hit the exact right spot every time he moved and in the thought that this must be heaven, because life could not possibly be that good.  
Neither of them lasted long; Martín came so suddenly and heavily he barely knew what was happening, and Andrés followed instantly, making heat spread all the way up to Martín’s stomach when he did.

He slowly came back to reality when he felt Andrés’ lips on his chest, leaving soft kisses all over his hot skin as he traced it.  
“99 percent, huh?” He said breathlessly, slowly opening his eyes. “Didn’t feel like there was anything missing to _me_.” He could feel Andrés smile against his skin before he moved to look up at him.  
“You asked me where my desire was.” He said, tracing Martín’s jawline with his fingers. “It’s wherever _you_ touch me, mi amor.” Martín moved his hands up to the back of Andrés’ neck, softly stroking his skin as he looked up at him fondly.  
“Mi amor.” He echoed, letting the word melt on his tongue and smiling like he hadn’t in months when Andrés’ lips met his once again.  
  
  
“You'll have to promise me something, Martín.” Andrés whispered when they were lying tangled up under the blanket that night.  
“What is it, tell me.” Martín said, gently running his hand through his lover’s hair.  
“When it’s time, you have to let me go.” Andrés said quietly. “Because leaving you will be the hardest thing I have done in my life. And I need to know you’re with me.” Martín swallowed hard, instinctively moving closer to Andrés, as if he could stop time if he just held him close enough.  
“I promise.” He said, resting his lips on his lover’s temple and closing his eyes. “I promise, I’ll be with you.”  
  
  
And he was. He was with him the next time he met up with Sergio to discuss the robbery at the Mint, driving him half insane by constantly running his hand up his leg under the table. He was with him when they were preparing for the heist, dancing with him to low music in their room after long days and making him laugh during boring dinner conversations. He was with him while he brought the plan into motion and controlled the hostages: backed him up against Tokyo and Nairobi – not successfully; they both ended up tied to a chair – and used every last private second they had to do all the things Sergio would certainly _not_ approve of during a heist.  
He was with him when they were almost caught by police in the tunnel, only barely making it out alive, and kissed him so dramatically after, you could have thought the whole story was only about them.

And he was with him when, in the early morning hours of a sunny day in Argentina, lying on their bed right by the wide-open windows, clutching Martín’s hand with a strength he didn’t think possible anymore, Andrés de Fonollosa took his last breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! xx
> 
> I loved the idea of their love story being a tragic one (although it breaks my heart) but I so desperately wanted them to have some more time together. But hands down the original plot is brilliant, one of the best story lines I have ever seen, containing the by far best kiss scene I have ever seen.
> 
> If I did anything weird with the Spanish, please tell me. :)


End file.
